


The Rest Is Silence

by Brenda



Series: The Lazy Hazy Summer Daze Writing Challenge [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, The Lazy Hazy Summer Days Writing Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:11:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was as good a place as any.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rest Is Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the second day of the **[The Lazy Hazy Summer Daze Writing Challenge](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/1074772.html)** for [](http://lobelia321.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lobelia321.livejournal.com/)**lobelia321** , who asked for original fic, something Harlequiny with a sunset and a beach.

It was as good a place as any.

Malcolm sat heavily on the sand and watched with a sort of bemused detachment as the waves rolled in, then crawled back out, then rolled in again, back out, over and over... _As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, amen._

As a saying, it was particularly fitting.

The sun was sinking towards the horizon in a fiery ball of red and pink-tinged orange. It was unbearably beautiful. The most beautiful sunset he'd ever seen. That must be why he was crying. Right? A man was allowed to cry over great beauty when he saw it, wasn't he?

_Breathless with adoration; the broad sun/Is sinking down in its tranquility/The gentleness of heaven broods..._

He jerked his head up, blinked the world back into focus. Not yet. He wasn't ready. He had so much to do, so much to see, so much he still needed to accomplish. Not that the universe seemed to give a damn, but then, the universe had never seemed to have much of a use for him since the day he'd come screaming and squalling into the world.

_Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts/Up to the palace of th'imperial heaven/That this my life may be as short to me..._

No. He'd be damned if this was how he was going to out. Maybe he was all alone on this deserted stretch of land, and maybe no one was around to witness or care what he did or how he acted, but that's what courage was, right? What one did when no one was around?

_Still must I on; for I am as a weed/Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail/Where'er the surge may sweep..._

He lifted a hand – red and slicked with blood – up to his face and studied it. Strange to think all of this had come from him. Bleeding out should hurt more, shouldn't it? Shouldn't he be in pain?

He looked at the waves again – upon the brilliant blues and foamy whites – and at the sun sinking inexorably deeper in a puff-clouded sky. Such a beautiful spot. Peaceful. Tranquil, even. As good a place as any.

His eyes were so heavy. His body felt like lead. And the ocean sounded so far away. Maybe he should move closer. Maybe he'd just stay here for a minute. Close his eyes, just for a minute.

Sleep. Perchance to ––

***


End file.
